


The Black Lace Mantilla

by mrs_leary (julie)



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M, Sex Is Not The Enemy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-29
Updated: 2010-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:17:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/mrs_leary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bradley stumbles upon some unexpectedly interesting pornographic photos on the sex is not the enemy tumblr blog. Then he realises why the model seems so familiar. When he finally raises the topic with Colin, Colin's response surprises him…</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Black Lace Mantilla

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a response to the brilliant prompt from **frantic_allonsy** on LJ, to write something inspired by a photo of one's choice from the **sex is not the enemy** tumblr.
> 
> This fic comes with icons made by little old me. Feel free to snag if you like!
> 
>     
> 
>  **Picture credits for the icons:**  
>  ♦ photo in #1 belongs to [**Andy Houghton** on flickr](http://www.flickr.com/photos/andyhoughton/)  
>  ♦ photos in #2 and #3 belong to [**into_the_sky** on flickr](http://www.flickr.com/photos/diego_garcon/)  
>  ♦ photo of Black Lace Sambucus (an elderberry!) in #4 belongs to [**Stargazer Perennials**](http://www.stargazerperennials.com/SAMBUCUS_BLACK_LACE.html)  
>  ♦ graphic in #5 belongs to [**KainApophysis** on deviantART](http://kainapophysis.deviantart.com/gallery/)
> 
>  **Sites and images mentioned in the fic include:**  
>  ♦ [**sex is not the enemy** on tumblr ](http://sexisnottheenemy.tumblr.com/)  
>  ♦ [the leathermen](http://sexisnottheenemy.tumblr.com/post/746600580/ireensarrows-via-leathermen)  
> ♦ [the Wonder Woman undies](http://sexisnottheenemy.tumblr.com/post/764892023/via-dorothy-surrenders)  
> ♦ [my original inspiration](http://sexisnottheenemy.tumblr.com/post/755141503/wwtt-topherrrjordan-via-subjectdelta-via) (though I re-imagined most of the photos in the fic)  
> ♦ **Dale McCready** is at dmc.tumblr.com (mostly harmless, this one) but naturally enough I don't want him following any live links back here!

♦

Bradley had never been much into porn. Sure, he’d react to it, like anyone might – though it was sort of an automatic physical reaction rather than a genuine engagement. But when it came to sex he was far more into the sense of touch than sight. When he wasn’t getting any of the real thing, then closing his eyes and touching himself was as good an option as any to tide him over. And anyway, the sheer joylessness of most porn just depressed him. Quite apart from the vague notion that there were issues of exploitation, idealisation and suchlike surrounding the whole subject, so there was always a sneaking guilty taint associated with watching porn, a dirty sort of feeling that wasn’t the _good_ kind of filthy.

Which meant that the whole damned earth shifted under his feet when Bradley stumbled upon a tumblr blog which featured full–on pornographic photos of a whole range of ‘regular’ people, ideal and not, who were obviously participating with full consent – and enjoying themselves and each other so much that there was even a tag for _happy smiley people_ just to make the point, and another one for _kisses_. And _this_ – _this_ kind of porn, if porn it even was – turned him on like nobody’s business.

Of course, the downside was that the blog featured every possible combination of men and women – whether alone, or two people together, or three or more – so that within minutes of finding it, Bradley had ended up seeing about a hundred times more male–on–male activity than he had anticipated viewing throughout his entire _life_. But hey, he thought with a shrug, each to their own, and they were obviously getting off on it, and if his horny reaction to the women–flying–solo or the men–with–women or the women–with–women wasn’t exactly totally extinguished when the next photo showed a man or men only, then he could live with that. It was probably time he opened up his mind a little, at least within the safe confines of _sex is not the enemy_.

It amused him that the only other tumblr blog he followed was Dale’s. Bradley wasn’t quite game enough to tell Dale that while sober, but he anticipated Dale finding it amusing, too. At least, after a couple of beers he might. Not that Dale ever blogged or re–blogged anything… madly inappropriate, but he was an Antipodean, and might be relied upon to have a relaxed attitude towards these things.

Bradley blamed the leathermen for what happened next. Or maybe the pert female rear dressed in nothing but skimpy Wonder Woman undies… The latter photo was a closely–cropped black–and–white, the motif on the undies made him smile, and the rear was particularly delectable: Bradley would so _totally_ do that… His cock twitched in interest as he imagined just where he would be plunging in… As for the two leathermen, they really only caught his attention because they wearing far more clothes than usual with porn, and they weren’t even kissing let alone engaged in any kind of sexual activity. He scrolled back after they’d flicked by, curious about why the photo had been included. One of the men seemed sad, and was resting his forehead against his friend’s, looking down disconsolately, arm hanging loose at his side. The other was smiling in gentle reassurance, with his hands spread either side of his friend’s ribs. Comforting him, rallying him with a bit of humour. It was a genuine moment, a surprisingly tender moment… Bradley could not remain unaffected by it.

The photo was obviously not posed; the moment was obviously real. Which was one of things about this tumblr blog: many of the shots seemed to be taken by skilled amateurs during the real thing rather than by professionals coolly staging scenarios. But then there was this photo…

In between the leathermen and Wonder Woman, in between the tenderness and the hotness, there was this photo that had obviously been taken by someone who knew exactly what he was doing – and it was of a guy who obviously _also_ knew what he was doing. A model, perhaps, or a dancer. Someone who knew everything there was to know about his own body, which was arranged perfectly – and yet the effect was so dynamic. Bradley knew it was a held pose, somehow – he could feel it in his sinews – and yet it seemed as if the guy was caught in transition. He was full of energy, a _flowing_ energy. A lean masculine body, strong yet slim and supple. Long legs and a longer torso. Dark virile scatterings of hair. His face hidden by a heavy silky black lace scarf, like the mantilla Bradley’s mum had brought home from a holiday in Spain once… He really didn’t want to be thinking about his mum right now.

OK. The guy’s face hidden, but in an exotic intriguing kind of way. And strong lighting from only one direction that threw certain details – such as his cock and balls – into shadow. But anyway it was the pose that reeled Bradley in so close that it was as if he were the one standing at the foot of the bed. Looking down at the guy waiting for him.

The guy who was reclining back on a fluffy duvet with a white cotton cover. One arm – the one furthest from the light source – already bent so that his weight was on his elbow; the other still full–length and propping him up. Similarly, the leg furthest from the light was stretched out – though not straight, but opened up, turned out a little so as to reveal the inside of his thigh; the other still bent, with his knee up and his foot flat on the bed. Then there was the _energy_ of it. As soon as the camera had clicked, the guy was going to shift back a bit further on the bed, and ease himself down, his thighs offering all of himself, and his arms would lift, his hands reaching for you, asking for you to… to have him. To lie between those long undeniably–masculine legs, and to push yourself up into his snug darkness, and –

And Bradley’s breath was coming hard, and for pretty much the first time in his life _for real_ , actually literally truly _for real_ , he was thinking this about a guy: ‘Oh my god… I would so totally _do_ that!’

He turned off the computer and went to find the distraction of company. Undemanding friendly female company.

It took him about twenty–four hours to realise there might be other photos of this guy on _sex is not the enemy_. He told himself he was interested to find out more about the model and the photographer, and what this was all about: A professional project of some kind? A personal indulgence? An artist’s exploration of what high–quality porn might be like? A modern–day love letter? A way of bragging about the hotness of one’s boyfriend?

Bradley hit the _men_ tag, and scrolled back through, letting the images flick by. He was looking for something that matched the recent shot, something dark and artistic, maybe with a blue–ish tinge. Soon enough, about three months back in the timeline, he found another. The same guy, on the same bed, with the same black lace covering his face. This time he was lying on his front, and his rear was poking pertly in the air – Bradley felt the stretch of the forced curve in his lower back – and the guy’s thighs were open again. But this time the shot was taken from the side, so there was no explicit reveal of… of the place he was offering up for plundering, nor his cock and balls hanging heavy below. Instead there was another frozen moment of dynamic movement, with the guy’s hands flat on the bed just under his shoulders – his weight lightly propped on his hands, knees and toes, as if he’d just pounced there and landed with a feline grace. The invitation then being for the witness to jump onto the bed, and secure him with an arm round his waist, with a cock in his arse, before he could leap away again… ‘Oh god,’ said Bradley a bit brokenly.

He scrolled back further – and then returned to the photo. Gazed at it some more. Cursed under his breath as he right–clicked and saved the damned thing to a new folder he titled _omg man porn_. He’d find and save the more recent one later.

He scanned back further in the timeline, and found another one. It was the black lace scarf that caught his eye this time, for this photo was light, and far more casual. In fact, this didn’t look like a pose at all, but simply the guy sitting on a wooden chair in the natural light falling from a large window, perhaps having a break between shoots – sitting there with one foot up on the seat with his narrow rear, and that long thigh pressed up against his chest. And he was smiling, relaxed, laughing even. Not that you could see his face beyond the heavy silk, but there was something about his body language, the way his head was dipped and tilted just slightly, the way he was twisting a little at the waist as if about to wriggle – there was something there that Bradley could read perfectly, he could imagine the exact wonderful grin, the light in the guy’s eyes… He knew – He knew what –

Bradley frowned. Peered closer. Looked at the guy’s hands – his long pale hands with the crooked little finger which were all so very familiar to Bradley now after these past two years. Just to be sure, he clicked back to the home page, and scanned through for the most recent photo again. Despite the shadowed lighting, he could just make out a bruise on the guy’s left shin. He knew how that bruise had happened. He knew. He knew who the guy in the photos was.

It was Colin.

♦

So now Bradley was dying of curiosity, but how did one introduce such a topic of conversation? Surely you couldn’t casually say one day out of the blue, _Oh by the way, mate, I found your porn on the internet…_ No, surely not. Or maybe you could these days. What did Bradley know? The times they are a–changing, and all that. But maybe not _that_ far.

After two days of pondering this imponderable, and slowly getting eaten away by his heightened sense of intrigue – finally on Thursday, their last day of filming in Pierrefonds – Bradley settled for a relatively innocuous question, in the hopes that it would lead somewhere. He waited until he and Colin happened to have some free time between scenes, and were hanging out together in the shade of a tree outside the chateau, sprawled on the grass. Colin was lying on his front propped up on his elbows, and he was reading a book as usual, but he was well used to Bradley interrupting him by now. Bradley cleared his throat, and tried, ‘You seeing anyone at the moment?’

Colin slowly turned his head to contemplate Bradley. ‘Why? You askin’…?’

‘ _No_ ,’ Bradley retorted, favouring the man with his best _Duh_ grimace. ‘Just making conversation. You know, like _friends_ do.’

A long moment passed in which Colin remained impassive. But eventually he said, ‘Yeah, I am. Kind of.’

‘Kind of? What does that mean?’

But then Bradley belatedly clicked, and they chorused, ‘It’s complicated.’

‘Tell me more,’ said Bradley. ‘ _Not_ about the complications.’ He scrunched his face up in thought. ‘Well, not unless you want to.’

‘What, this being a conversation between friends, n’ all?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Right.’ Colin sighed, and rolled over onto his back. He gazed up at the sky, apparently searching for something to say – and he ended up with, ‘I’m seeing a photographer.’

 _Bingo!_ Bradley grinned, and looked away before he could betray himself. ‘Uh… based in London?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Living together?’

A slight pause. ‘No.’

‘Ah.’ Bradley lifted up and swivelled around to sit cross–legged, so he could watch Colin a bit more closely. ‘Is that where the complications come in?’

Colin essayed a shrug. ‘Not ready yet. Maybe never will be.’

‘Him or you?’

‘Him. I figure if –’ And suddenly Colin pushed up onto his elbows to scowl at Bradley. ‘I didn’t say _him_.’

‘Yes, you did. Just then.’

‘Oh, ha ha. Very funny.’ A long moment, and then Colin asked, ‘How d’you know?’

It was Bradley’s turn to sigh. If he couldn’t give the honest answer now, then it would probably remain forever unmentionable. ‘Well,’ he offered very deliberately, ‘I saw the photos.’

‘You saw –?’ The words seemed to snag in Colin’s throat, and he sat up as if he couldn’t handle this lying down. ‘You found the flickr page?’

‘There’s a _flickr_ page?’ Bradley echoed, his heart suddenly pounding. ‘What, like, a whole _photostream_ of them…?’

A brief flash of panic on Colin’s face. ‘Where _d’you_ see them, then?’

‘On tumblr. The _sex is not the enemy_ blog. A couple of them must have been re–blogged from flickr, I guess.’ And he added wistfully, ‘I didn’t think to go looking for the source…’

‘Oh that’s all right, then.’ Colin visibly relaxed. Well, he mostly relaxed. ‘I was afraid you’d found them on some fan site or other.’

‘Nah…’

‘How d’you know it was me?’

‘Your hands. And the bruise on your shin. I was there when you got that, right? When you tripped over the props box?’

‘Yeah, that was it.’

‘Yeah, but, Colin… if you don’t want people to know – if you don’t want the _fans_ to find them – how come you’re still doing it? I mean, that bruise was only three weeks ago.’

‘We always used the mask thing. Even before I got “famous”.’ He lifted his hands to mime the quote marks, and then resettled to sit cross–legged sort of half–facing Bradley.

And Bradley had about six different responses for that. _The mask thing…? Before you got famous…?_ He went with, ‘I’m not the only person in the whole world who’s paid attention to your hands, you know. In fact, they attract as much fannish interest as your ears.’

Colin scrunched up his face. ‘Why would anyone know to go looking? Or think to make the connection, even if they did see the photos?’

‘Well, _I_ did, didn’t I?’

Another long considering look. ‘So, why did you…?’

Bradley shrugged, and tried not to colour up. ‘I just like that tumblr blog. That’s my kind of porn, you know? Except… well, mainly the women, yeah?’

‘ _Mainly_ …?’

‘Yeah.’ Bradley cleared his throat. ‘So, um, you must have been seeing this guy for a while, then.’

‘On and off since I came to London, pretty much. The photos started when I was in _A Prayer for My Daughter_ , getting naked every night on stage. It was… intriguing. An intriguing process. But no one wanted to talk about it! Not even anyone in the actual production. I guess I wanted to explore that a bit. And when I asked him, I found that Jakob did, too.’

‘Jakob.’ God, Bradley had another six responses for all that, too. ‘ _Intriguing_ …’ he murmured. ‘The process, I mean.’

‘Yeah,’ Colin responded in kind. ‘Have to admit… I really like it. You probably got that already from the photos. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that – I wouldn’t say that every actor’s an exhibitionist at heart, but… there’s something… elemental about it.’

‘Elemental…’ After a moment Bradley shook himself. He had to stop with the parroting thing. ‘Um… So the on–again, off–again bit: is that the complication?’

Colin shrugged, and looked down to where his hands were folded neatly in his lap. ‘It’s more that… he believes in open relationships. So I was never gonna be his boyfriend. You know, not _seriously_.’

‘What a stupid fuckin’ idiot he must be!’

A brief flash of anger. ‘Well, he never pretended to be anything he’s not. And when we’re together, it’s pretty damned fantastic. And with me being away so much anyway…’

‘Colin –’

‘We’re together at the moment,’ Colin blurted. ‘Even though I’m in France. We always agree when we’re together and when we’re – not.’

‘D’you see other people, too?’

Apparently there was this fascinating blade of grass at Colin’s feet. ‘Not really. Sometimes when we’re off–again. Anyway, there’s never been anyone else who I felt serious about, or at least not anyone who’d let me get on with the work like he does, so…’

‘And does he –’

‘ _God_ , Bradley…’ Colin complained. ‘Didn’t know I was lettin’ myself in for an interrogation.’

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled.

A silence stretched, before Colin at last sighed, and said, ‘You know – I am actually OK with all this. I really am. Dunno why I’ve got my hackles up. I guess people don’t usually… wanna hear about anything that’s not true love and monogamy, yeah? Let alone… you know. Naked photos on the internet.’

‘I’m not sitting here thinking you’re weird!’ Bradley protested.

‘Aren’t you?’

‘No. If I’m thinking anything _bad_ , then maybe it’s just… yeah, maybe Jakob doesn’t realise what a lucky bastard he is. That’s all.’

‘Ah,’ said Colin sagely, ‘how unexpected: a compliment.’ Then he prompted, ‘All right. What were you gonna ask? _And does he_ what?’

Bradley swallowed. ‘Does he take photos like that of… other people?’

Colin twisted his mouth in thought. ‘I don’t think so. Not that I’ve ever seen. There’s nothing else on the flickr page. I’m pretty sure that’s just something between him and me.’

‘Would you be… jealous?’

‘Nah… Well, I guess…’ Colin frowned. ‘No. Not at this stage. It’d just be _too_ hypocritical of me, if I was.’

‘All right. Interrogation over – I promise.’ And Bradley was determined to let the matter go. Not that he couldn’t have gotten _hours_ more conversation out of it all, but he’d had his main points of curiosity satisfied, and that would do for now. He looked around at the scene being set up below them, at the chateau, at Pierrefonds, at the rest of the world, which apparently did still exist.

‘Bradley,’ said Colin very quietly.

‘Mmm?’

‘Did you want to… Do you want to do a shoot like that yourself?’

‘What?! _No!_ Where d’you get that from?’

‘All right. Sorry.’

‘ _God_ , Colin…’

‘Got the wrong end of the stick.’

‘ _Obviously_.’ Bradley had drawn his legs up, and was now hugging his knees to his chest. _God_ , he muttered to himself… _God, why on earth_ … But then another part of him whispered, _Every actor’s an exhibitionist at heart_ … and he glanced up at Colin, who’d stood up apparently ready to go back down to the set.

Colin looked down at his upturned face very thoughtfully for a moment. And then he said, ‘If you’re in London this weekend, come round Saturday evening. I’ll text you his address. It’s, like, his flat up one flight, and then his studio above that.’

And Bradley found himself agreeing. Just nodding once, despite knowing that he was pale, and he probably looked quite terrified.

Colin would be able to see all that quite clearly, of course. Colin _knew_ him. Colin knew Bradley just about as well as anyone ever had – and Colin pulled his mobile out of his pocket, and started walking off. ‘I’ll set it up,’ he said, over his shoulder, his thumb already jabbing out a message.

 _Oh god_ … But Bradley didn’t find it in him to say no.

♦

Bradley couldn’t have said afterwards what they spent the afternoon filming, but apparently it all went absolutely smoothly – perhaps like those times when he’d been just drunk enough to lose all doubts but not so far gone that he’d lost his skills or coordination. He’d won a few glorious games of darts and pool in such a fine state.

He couldn’t have said, either, how he got back to the hotel, though at least he could assume it was the usual car, their usual driver, and Colin beside him quiet and unobtrusive.

The first thing he did rather than start packing, of course, was boot up the computer and follow the links from the tumblr blog to flickr. He closed his eyes once the photostream was loading, and gave a brief moment’s thought to the fact that Colin was in his room right now, no doubt knowing exactly what Bradley was about to be looking at. He wondered if that turned Colin on, and kind of hoped it did. He wondered if… yeah, if that even _empowered_ him. Maybe Colin was strutting his stuff at this very moment, in his modest Colin Morgan way, feeling Bradley’s virtual gaze upon him, running all over his skin and bones… Maybe he was feeling _well_ sexy right now.

Maybe Bradley would feel much the same way, when it was his turn.

He opened his eyes, and started the photostream playing as a slideshow. Colin was… oh god, _Colin_. Always with the black lace, but it was so _obvious_ now. The mask hid nothing. Not from Bradley.

Many of the shots were on the bed or by the window. Some were simply erotic poses, though as thoroughly conceived and executed as anything Bradley had ever seen; he decided that Colin could probably convey an entire three–act drama using nothing but his toes. Other photos told a story: a yearning stance by the window as he watched for his lover to arrive; an invitation for someone feeling a bit shy to join him on the bed; an internally–focussed moment of self–pleasure in which Colin seemed utterly unaware of the camera and the photographer and the viewers. All were fairly discreet. Not that Bradley hadn’t seen pretty much every inch of Colin’s skin by the time the slideshow was done, but his cock and balls and hole weren’t in the viewer’s face at every opportunity; instead, they were simply there, his generously–sized cock sometimes erect and sometimes not, his package a quite natural and unforced part of the whole.

Some of the photos were taken elsewhere: a few in the studio setting, but most in the domesticity of the flat. Bradley liked the ones in the kitchen best, cos that was where a home’s heart belonged. Some used a prop of some kind: a bit of clothing, a sex toy, long–stemmed white lilies, or ( _god_ ) elbow–length black silk gloves… Almost all of them used lighting really effectively, whether to highlight or to cast into shadow, to create a silhouette or mimic a particular feel of night or day. Some weren’t posed at all, but were casual shots of a relaxed and happy Colin, so completely comfortable in himself. They were Bradley’s favourites. He could almost hear the shared laughter.

For long moments at a time Bradley was so entranced by his friend, and all that his friend could be and do, he forgot he’d be doing this himself in two days’ time… And then he couldn’t help but put himself in there, and wonder if he could possibly be as comfortable as Colin, or even half as good at this… It sounded like Colin had had years of practice though, so maybe Bradley would be allowed a bit of a learning curve. He wondered… what kind of mask, what props, what places, what poses…? Should he come up with some ideas of his own, or should he submit himself entirely to Jakob’s direction? And what should he wear, or was that completely irrelevant…? But, no – what if Bradley himself wanted to start while still in his briefs? He’d better wear the right kind of briefs. Perhaps buy a new pair, Calvin Kleins or some such. The sort that would look good in a photo.

Bradley sighed, and closed down the computer.

It took him ages to get to sleep that night, and when he did it was only because he’d finally surrendered to the urge to toss himself off. Determinedly not thinking about Colin and his confidence and his smile and those long black silk gloves which would feel cool against Bradley’s skin as Colin’s hands spread either side of Bradley’s ribs and then ran swiftly down to his hips and –

Bradley came with a cry.

♦

He was still terrified come Saturday night, of course. He turned up at the address, and wavered for a long moment on the pavement before he was finally brave enough to press the buzzer. Colin came down to let him in, dressed casually in a plain black t–shirt and jeans, his smile friendly but not overpowering, his demeanour unobtrusive and supportive. ‘Hey, Bradley, come on in,’ he said with a quiet kind of happiness.

And of course Bradley’s tension automatically eased down a notch in response. Colin could be like that on set, too, when Bradley got frustrated or fretful about a scene. ‘Colin,’ he managed in a rough, subdued kind of voice. Then he followed as Colin padded back up the stairs.

‘Come and meet Jakob,’ Colin said when they got up to the flat. ‘He thought we could have a drink, and talk about what you want to do. What you _don’t_ want to do, too, of course. Whatever parameters you want to set, that’s fine. All right?’

‘Yeah, sure.’

Moments later he was sitting round the table in the kitchen with a cold bottle of Amstel in his hand, having managed to look Jakob in the eye while shaking his hand. Jakob seemed all right. Maybe about thirty, with dark brown hair and eyes, a thoughtful face, and _fit_. He obviously worked out. Colin was chatting with him about the weather or where they’d go for lunch the next day or something equally mundane, the two of them just very comfortable with each other, giving Bradley the chance to catch his breath. Which he just about had until he realised that he’d seen this very table recently in a rather different context. He spluttered out a laugh, which had them both looking at him with a gentle query. ‘I liked the kitchen ones,’ he offered. ‘Heart of the home, and all that.’

‘Is that what you’d like to do this evening, Bradley?’ Jakob asked, just very easily.

‘No. Oh, no. That’s – No, I mean, _Colin_ belongs in the heart of your home, doesn’t he? Not me.’

‘Do you have any particular ideas about what you would like to do?’

‘No, I, uh – No.’

Jakob nodded. ‘I think we should start simply, with you just the way you are now. With a mask, of course. I understand the need to protect your identity, and I’m sure Colin’s explained that you can trust me, but if you need any further reassurances on that –’

‘ _He_ trusts you. That’s good enough.’

A small fond smile. ‘You are very good friends, I think.’

Bradley and Colin exchanged a glance. Colin was still in serene mode, though he had a twinkle in his eyes and his smile for a moment. He reached for something lying on the table, and pushed it towards Bradley. ‘We thought, with your colouring, maybe this…’ A creamy lace mantilla, with a bit of gold around the edges.

‘Per–’ He had to clear his throat and try again. ‘Perfect.’ It was like Colin’s except for the colour, so it would be obvious that their photos were part of a set. He let his hand rest on it, feeling the rich textured silk.

‘I thought, yes,’ Jakob continued, ‘just as you are. In your clothes, so you are comfortable. Perhaps barefoot. And then, when you’re ready, we do a slow reveal, step by step. What do you think?’

He took a mouthful of beer, cos his throat was dry. ‘Yeah, that sounds fine.’

‘We can stop at any time, Bradley. And even photos of you fully dressed will be erotic, if that’s how you want them to be. So you don’t even need to take your shirt off, if you don’t want to.’

‘I understand.’ He essayed a grin. ‘I think I can manage my shirt at least. I’ve had some practice at that on _Merlin_.’

‘Just so. As for the scenario, are you alone getting ready for bed, perhaps for a little pleasure on your own?’ He lifted a hand palm–out. ‘Not that we need to actually go that far, of course. Or are you putting on a bit of a show for your lover? Or…?’

‘I think – alone.’ He imagined it, visualising himself as perhaps a bit pensive, not necessarily thinking about the pleasure, but needing the comfort. And then he thought about the _happy smiley people_ , and suddenly he knew what his new ambition was… Not that anyone would be able to _see_ his smile behind the lace, but he knew with a great certainty that he wanted to do that kind of thing. ‘No! Putting on a bit of a show. Happy, like. Anticipating. Yeah?’

‘Perfect.’ Jakob seemed pleased. ‘And would you prefer that Colin stayed or that he left? Don’t worry about the practicalities: if he’s there he can help me, but I can work either way.’

‘I’ll just make myself scarce if you want, Bradley.’

‘No. Stay.’ He’d had a moment of panic then. It wasn’t that an extra witness seemed like a great idea, but he could certainly do with the moral support. ‘Times like this, you need a friend around.’

‘Sure,’ said Colin with one of his beautiful smiles. But then he withdrew back into unobtrusive mode.

‘You just tell me when you’re ready, Bradley. You’ll still have a few minutes, as I’ll need to adjust the lighting.’

He swallowed down the last of his Amstel, and put the bottle down decisively. ‘Let’s go make us some porn…’

♦

Jakob had already set up some lighting around the bed, so they quickly agreed that Bradley would stand by it while beginning to strip, and at some stage move onto it. Meanwhile, his imaginary lover would be watching from an armchair across the room; Jakob fixed the tripod so that the camera was at approximately the right height. Then he adjusted the lighting, with Colin’s quietly efficient help, so that the bedside lamp was the only visible source, but there was enough positional lighting to take the shots while creating a late–night heading–for–bed ambiance.

Then Colin came over, and gestured towards the mantilla, which Bradley held clutched in one hand. ‘D’you want me to help you with that?’

‘Please.’

‘Sit on the bed…?’

Bradley perched on the edge of the bed, and let Colin arrange the scarf. The edge of it went around under Bradley’s chin, then the lace settled close over his face, and the ends were loosely tied off at his nape. Bradley tilted his head a little, then shook it, but the scarf felt secure. And while it felt heavy and protective, he could breathe through it perfectly. Not to mention he liked the feel of the silk against his skin.

‘Is that all right?’

‘Yeah, it’s fine. Thanks.’

‘No problem.’ Colin headed off and settled quietly in a chair off to one side, out of what would be Bradley’s line of sight.

‘How would you like to begin, Bradley?’ Jakob asked.

 _Now for it._ He took a breath and stood up, turned to smooth out the duvet again. ‘Um, does it matter if – for the story of it, I mean – does it matter if I’m a bit shy to start with? A bit awkward, maybe?’

‘And you gradually warm into it? That would work very nicely indeed, Bradley. Would you mind if I just took one shot of you standing there, so I can use it as a lighting reference? I won’t share this one, of course.’

‘Yeah, no probs.’ And even though it was meant to be him just standing there, of course he felt himself pose, as it were – his body flexed, even though he barely moved. The camera shutter clicked – and he was into it. ‘Let’s keep going, then,’ Bradley said – and he dropped his head a little, offering the camera a small bashful smile as he looked out from under his brow, and his fingers went to his shirt buttons. _Click_.

He took his time on that, trying a slightly different stance, a slightly different expression for each button. Jakob obligingly kept up with him; whether or not the shots were useful was another matter, but Bradley could at least feel himself starting to get into the spirit of the thing. _Click. Click. Click_.

Then it was time to open up the shirt, to reveal his chest and stomach. He did so with as much style as he could muster, thinking about his lover, and how she – he? – she would enjoy this first view of flesh. His smile had become a small but irrepressible grin by now, though his head remained down. _Click_.

Then he turned his back on the camera; lowered the shirt with his elbows held in close to his torso and the shirttails in his hands out wide, the tied–off corners of the silk scarf whispering cool against his backbone; the camera shutter clicked as the shirt reached his lower back, and hopefully captured something strong about his shoulders. After all, if Colin could convey desire with his toes then Bradley should be able to manage _something_ with his shoulder–blades… _Click_.

An idea occurred to him that was unfortunately inspired by drunken late–night tangles: he twisted the shirt once around each wrist and – still with his back to the camera – held his arms straight back down with the shirt taut between them, as if he were handcuffed. ‘Does this work?’ he asked, with his head lowered in surrender.

‘Yes, absolutely.’ _Click. Click. Click_.

‘And this?’ turning his head just the barest amount to look back over his shoulder.

‘Yes.’ _Click. Click. Click_.

‘All right.’ He posed some more with the shirt hanging from one hand, then turned back towards the camera as he let it fall to the floor. _Click_.

‘You are beautiful, Bradley. The camera appreciates how beautiful you are.’

He cracked into a big grin then, and glanced over at Colin. _Click_. ‘Is he for real?’

‘Yeah, he is,’ said Colin, smiling. ‘And so’s his camera.’

‘So is your lover, Bradley, who is sitting here watching you, thinking about how beautiful you are, how wonderful it will be to make love with you. Can you give your lover a promise, just with your expression, your body language…?’

‘What sort of promise?’ he asked, even as he drew himself up into a tall, easy posture.

‘A promise of pleasure, of love…’

And from that tall confidence, he projected his heart and soul and sex out towards his love. _Click. Click. Click_.

‘Beautiful, Bradley. Beautiful…’

He took a moment, and then his hands went to the button on his jeans. _Click_. He slowly unzipped, trying to remain aware of his overall posture, of letting the camera see just enough, not too much. He knew his cheeks were flushed now, but of course that didn’t matter under the lace, and anyway if he was conveying a bit of self–consciousness maybe it wouldn’t matter for the story. _Click_. He stole a glance at Colin, who after all wasn’t actually seeing anything new, given the number of times they’d gotten in and out of costume together – but Colin was just sitting there quietly, looking in Bradley’s direction but in an unfocussed kind of way. Bradley glanced back at the camera. _Click_. ‘God,’ he muttered. ‘Is there a dignified way of taking off your jeans? A porny way.’

‘Just take them off how you would do it yourself, Bradley. We want something natural here. Something real.’

‘God. All right.’ He pushed the denim down his hips, taking care to leave his briefs where they were. _Click. Click. Click_. Bent forward a little to push them down his thighs. _Click_. Swung around a little and sat down on the edge of the bed, still bent over a bit. _Click_. Lifted a knee to begin easing the jeans off one leg – _Click_ – and then the other. _Click. Click. Click_. He let the jeans fall with his shirt. _Click_. And there he was, sitting on a bed in nothing but his briefs. Being photographed. _Click_.

It was obvious – It would be obvious now, as soon as he stood up, that he wasn’t erect but he was getting that way. It would be obvious that he was engorged. He cast a glance at the camera which was meant to be teasingly coy, but probably came across all wrong, because Jakob murmured, ‘We can stop any time you like, Bradley, or take a break. Whatever you need.’

‘I’m all right. I – Well. D’you want me to be hard or not?’ His face was hot with embarrassment now. Why on earth hadn’t he thought to ask this earlier?

‘What I would most like, Bradley, is something real. Your own natural reaction, whatever that might be. You will be beautiful and of interest in any state at all. But if you want to take some time, and find the right reaction for you, that is perfectly fine.’

‘No, I’m good. We can keep going.’

‘It is always up to you, Bradley, but especially now. Whether you take your pants off or not. Whether you lie on the bed. What you choose to show us. Only do what feels right for you.’

He nodded, unable to find his voice. But then he was able to say, ‘I’m good,’ again. And he stood up. He was aware of his cock bulging against the stretch cotton of his briefs. He looked down – _Click_ – he shaped a hand to it all. _Click. Click. Click_. And then slowly… slowly… he lifted his hands to the waistband, and began pushing it down…

He was being shy. He leaned over as he went, his lowered head and torso – he assumed – hiding his cock, but he wasn’t quite squarely aligned to the camera, so hopefully it saw the long lines, the long curve of back and rear and thigh. He pushed his briefs to just below his knees, and then stood up – his right hand cupping his balls, and his cock starting to harden up, cockhead nudging against his wrist, and then the tender skin inside his forearm. He watched his virtual lover while he lifted first one leg and then the other to dislodge his briefs and deposit them with his shirt and jeans. Then he straightened up, standing square to the camera. He wasn’t going to be bashful about this, damn it. He wanted to be on that tumblr blog, and the people there were all so happy and unashamed.

Bradley brought his left hand in to cup his balls, and with his right he palmed his cock, slid up and down it, just once. It was hard now – not fully hard, but close enough. Nothing to be embarrassed about. He finally let his hands drop to the sides, and stood there tall; all of him except the obvious bit was quiet, quiescent. _Click. Click. Click_. He’d almost forgotten the camera; hadn’t been keeping track of what shots Jakob had been taking.

He dropped his head for a moment, fisted his hands – then when he looked up again, he went for _happy smiley comfortable engaged_. He suddenly felt totally energised. _Click. Click. Click_.

‘Beautiful, Bradley.’

‘ _Thank you_ ,’ he murmured. _Click_.

He cast a flirtatious look at the camera as he turned away, leaned towards the bed. Slowly got up onto it one hand or knee at a time, turning his back to the camera for a few moments – _Click_ – to let the men see where they might want to plunge in – then turning again to end up on his rear on the bed, lying down, stretching out – letting his thighs open out as he’d seen Colin do, the inside of his thighs opening like a flower turning into the sun and giving itself… _Man_ , that felt good. _Click_.

He got back up onto one elbow. Reached the other hand towards his love. Yearning. Happy. Confident. Horny. _Click_.

‘Colin,’ Jakob said quietly. ‘Just a hand. If you don’t mind, Bradley. Just a hand reaching back towards you, responding to your invitation, as the last shot. The culmination. To show how irresistible you truly are.’

‘I don’t mind,’ said Bradley, turning solemn again.

Colin had already got up, and crossed to the foot of the bed. Crouching down unobtrusively.

‘All right,’ said Jakob.

And Colin reached one hand to gently wrap around Bradley’s ankle.

Bradley gasped at the connection – and suddenly he was aching with it. The need, god, the _need_. He felt grounded by that touch, and he felt like he was flying, soaring, all at once.

Jakob had his camera off the tripod now, and was coming a little closer, taking different angles. Bradley leaned up a little, to look welcomingly down at his love, to reach his hand down again to encourage him up onto the bed. Up onto Bradley. Into Bradley. Jakob went mad for a while with close–ups and long–shots and foreshortened lengths from Colin’s perspective. And all the while Colin’s hand lay steady on Bradley’s ankle, though Colin remained discreetly unfocussed on him – and Bradley was all huge panting breaths which surely must betray him, and thank god for the heavy cream lace, but still – Bradley thought he might go mad from the _need_.

But then Jakob at last stepped back, powered off all the lights but the bedside lamp, and then cradled his camera in both arms, let his head fall tactfully. Politely disengaging. ‘Thank you, Bradley. That was wonderful. I’m going to download these onto the computer now, and see what we have. Colin will take care of you. Take as much time as you need – both of you. And I’ll see you again when you’re ready, Bradley, whether that’s later tonight or next week.’

And Bradley managed a nod before letting his head fall back on the bed with a groaning kind of sigh, finally relaxing, letting his whole body go.

‘It’s over,’ Colin said very quietly once they were alone. ‘It’s over now.’ And he gently took away his hand.

♦

Colin had withdrawn to stand by the window, leaning against the far frame and gazing out into the night. Contemplative. Deliberately not doing anything to change the mood other than letting things wind down in their own good time. But things weren’t going to wind down for Bradley, or not entirely. He felt relaxed now – he felt good yet _tired_ as if he’d just achieved something that had required a huge amount of effort. He was also still hard. He lay there heavily, bonelessly, sinking down into the duvet, with his cock still standing proud, jutting up demanding attention.

‘Colin,’ said Bradley.

‘Mmm…?’

‘Come back here, would you?’

Colin just turned his head to look at Bradley. ‘You all right?’

‘Would you… help me? Touch me. Just a hand,’ he added, echoing Jakob. ‘If he wouldn’t mind. But that’s kind of what he meant, isn’t it?’

‘That’s partly what he meant. He was saying it’s all right with him. If we both want to.’

‘I want to.’

‘You’re sure…? I know this is –’

‘I want to stop talking now.’

Colin watched him a moment longer, and then nodded. ‘Sure,’ he whispered. _Touch me_ , Bradley silently asked again. And Colin climbed onto the bed, still fully dressed, black hair and black clothes against the white sheets though it wasn’t such an enormous contrast in the subdued lighting. Colin crawled up to then lie beside Bradley – but a safe distance apart, maybe twelve inches of duvet between them, Colin lying there on his side, propped up on an elbow – and he simply reached a hand, and wrapped it around Bradley’s cock – fingers and palm cool on the hot needy flesh – Bradley hissed in reaction, and arched back. Colin began an unfaltering steady rhythm, not overdoing it, not forcing the pace, but just getting the task done as quietly and efficiently as he’d been doing all evening.

It was exactly what Bradley needed. He didn’t push himself along, either – he just let it happen in its own good time – and within a few long lovely moments he was arching up further, muffling a groaning kind of cry, and spilling all over Colin’s hand and his own belly. Colin stayed with him through it, gentled him, then cupped his hand round Bradley’s package as he softened, only withdrawing once he was quiescent again.

‘All right?’ Colin murmured, reaching behind him for tissues, wiping off his hand and then cleaning off Bradley.

‘Yeah.’ He was still bonelessly tired, but he wasn’t done yet.

Colin gently, gently loosened the lace shawl, and pushed it back off Bradley’s face. Bradley didn’t feel exposed that way. In fact, it felt right. Colin said thoughtfully, ‘Bradley… I always knew exactly what your face would look like at every moment, even though I couldn’t see it.’

‘I was the same, with your photos.’ Bradley shifted himself up onto his side so that he was facing Colin. He gestured diffidently down towards Colin’s nethers. ‘And you…?’ he asked.

Colin remained impassive, and shrugged. ‘I’m all right.’

‘But aren’t you –?’

‘Course I am,’ he chided. ‘But don’t worry about that.’

‘I want to,’ said Bradley. And Colin just lay there, not moving an inch, and not protesting any further, his expression neither asking nor offering. But he wasn’t refusing, either. So Bradley reached for the button and zip on Colin’s jeans, lying on his shoulder so he had both hands free – and once he’d opened up the jeans, he simply reached in and wrapped one hand around Colin’s cock – from the feel of it, every bit as engaged as Bradley’s had been – and he pushed the other hand down inside the constriction of denim to cup Colin’s balls and fondle them – and it was easy, then. The first time he’d ever touched another man, but he knew what to do for himself, and it seemed the skills were easily transferrable – and within moments Colin’s eyes fluttered closed, and his lips formed a beautiful pouty **_o_** , and just as he let out a wounded cry and began coming in great long pulses, Bradley pressed his mouth to Colin’s, and they kissed, Colin clinging to him while they devoured each other raggedly.

Then Bradley collapsed in, and Colin held him close in his arms, they communed for a moment forehead–to–forehead before Bradley curled in further, and they were heavy and warm together, and it was as if they _belonged_. ‘If you were _my_ boyfriend,’ Bradley murmured against his friend’s beautiful throat, ‘I wouldn’t want anyone else. Why would I? You’re incredible.’

‘Bradley…’ Chiding, but only softly.

‘Think about it,’ Bradley asked.

‘You saying this to me now, when we’ve just had sex in his bed…? I can’t simply –’

‘Yeah, you can. He’ll understand. Cos it _is_ real simple. Not complicated at all.’

‘Oh god…’

‘Take all the time you need, Colin. I can wait.’

‘All the time I need,’ Colin echoed. His arms tightened around Bradley, and Bradley snuggled in closer still – and Colin said, ‘Yes.’

♦


End file.
